That was yesterday. Yep. Thirty-two 60D nails in one session. No breaks. No slowdowns. Just bending until all the skin tore off of my right index finger in a space as big as a dime.
Why? Well, let's just say that the medical establishment has a few things to learn in regards to helping families with ailing relatives through the process. I may have been, ahem, angry at the time. I had to do it. Catharsis was required.
So I learned that, yes, after a long, difficult day at work, I can, given the right stimulus, bend as many nails as I can grasp with one hand, all at once. I also learned that I need bigger, harder callouses to avoid bleeding at the end. Oh, well. If you ain't bleedin', you ain't tryin'.
The drama with my dad's illness continues on apace. This week, he's in the hospital with pneumonia. Fun times. I haven't done any writing this week, though I have a rewrite due at the end of the month. I'll have to withhold hope for the weekend.
That's my day, pretty much. Thanks for tuning in.